


The Man With the Mismatched Eyes

by GalaxyGhosty



Series: Color Theory [1]
Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 06:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7746955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Dark cocks his head, eyeing him from over his shoulder. “You do realize that the only reason you're still alive is because I'm not bored yet, don't you? You realize that the reason <em>any</em> of you aren't dead yet is because you keep finding new people to kill?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man With the Mismatched Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quintessentia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quintessentia/gifts).



> So I was riding home today after catching Pokemon on the beach and I was listening to "Gun in My Hand" by Dorothy, and I was literally assaulted with this AU so desperately that I had to do it. I cranked this all out in about an hour. 
> 
> I didn't edit it because I'm really, really tired but this AU is honestly so elaborate I don't know if I'll ever have time to write it all down. But I wrote this for Quin, because Anti and Dark are our murder children and I thought it'd be interesting to put them into a different setting for a small period of time. 
> 
> Anyway, enjoy everyone!

| _" Was it for the thrill of pushing my hope to the edge? Why did love, **why did love put a gun in my hand**?"_ |

~~

He's growing tired of counting the stones adorning these walls.

This space is too small for him. The window doesn't let enough moonlight in—too much sunlight all at once, instead. It's stuffy in this old place and it's not like he's ever allowed out to alleviate his lungs from the dust. 

Though, there are some that say he doesn't really have lungs. Or a heart. Or anything that makes him feel. It's quite cruel.

They're right, of course—he doesn't really feel much of anything. He couldn't give two shits about snapping a kid's neck, or tearing the tongue out of a noblewoman's mouth. It's just annoying when it's all he ever hears about himself.

He's getting bored. These people will like him even less when he's bored.

On cue, the doors creak open and he sits up, loosening the tension in his shoulders in a fluid motion. Rising to his feet, he tilts his head to meet the gaze of the onlooker, presumably the guards who always feel the need to escort him on these sorts of things. 

But he doesn't see them. Instead, he meets with a face that looks spectacularly like his.

“They told me stories of you,” it's weird hearing his voice, but not his voice, all at once. He's only ever seen this one from afar. “I wanted to meet you. Just once.” 

He snickers. The innocence in his—the Prince Marcus's voice—is almost sickening. “Didn't they tell you what I am, then?”

“It's best not to trust the court gossip,” Mark, as he prefers, answers him. “You look...” 

He doesn't get to finish. Another set of footsteps approach, and Mark jolts, wincing when he hears, “Your highness! What are you doing up here? Don't you know what that beast is capable of?”

A set of hands grab him and Mark fusses as they drag him down the stairs of the tower, before another guard's face appears in the doorway.

“You should take care to watch your little princeling,” he grins. “I might not be so nice to him next time.”

“You lay a hand on the prince and you're a dead man,” the guard sneers back. “Let's go, beast.”

“Dark,” he corrects, ignoring the blank look the man gives him as he struts by him. “My name is Dark.” 

~~

By the time the Royal Advisor opens his mouth, Dark's bored out of his mind. 

“Can you skip all the garbage and tell me who I'm killing?” he interrupts, because that's what he's here for. It's never anything else. “I don't even need the why. Who's the lucky duck today?” 

Dark smirks when the other man scowls, sliding a map across the table towards him. He leans forward and notices a few circled places, and he says, “So, what am I doing with this?”

“We're looking for a man named Anti,” the Advisor tells him. “We have reason to believe that he'll be making an assassination attempt on Prince Marcus sometime in the near future. The smaller marks are his last targets. This larger mark is his last known location.”

“So what you're telling me is that you want me to assassinate an assassin?” Dark drawls, sitting back. “Because he might be killing the little princeling at some point?”

“Do not forget why you're here,” the Advisor warns. “You exist to serve this family and its heir. You were created for this purpose.”

Dark rolls his eyes. “I was created because the queen couldn't get pregnant so the royal family used magic. And with that magic came a terrible price—the child would be born with every bit of darkness in the family line. While the price couldn't be destroyed, it could be transferred into another life form. So you put it into me, and had a healthy child who didn't abdicate their birthright.” 

He doesn't miss the way that everyone in the room seems to flinch, thinking of the former Prince Thomas, now somewhere far away where no one's been able to locate him. Dark takes a lot of pleasure in their discomfort. 

“But I'll do it,” Dark hums, scooping up the map. He pulls himself to his feet. “This is the most fun assignment I've had in ages.”

He turns to leave when the Advisor stops him. “You'll not threaten the prince's safety again.”

Dark cocks his head, eyeing him from over his shoulder. “You do realize that the only reason you're still alive is because I'm not bored yet, don't you? You realize that the reason _any_ of you aren't dead yet is because you keep finding new people to kill?” 

He actually laughs at the way color drains from the man's face. “But don't worry. I won't let anyone kill little Mark. Because I want to be the one to do it.”

~~

After three days of scoping this Anti figure out, Dark has exactly 2 hours and fifteen minutes to cut him open and leave his pieces in the riverbed.

Fun, fun, fun.

It feels good to be moving again, and the anticipation of seeing red already has him buzzing. It's been weeks since his last mission, but none of that matters as he hauls himself up to the top floor of the tavern. 

Anti is a pretty low key character, but even then it's a pretty bold move to be staying in a well populated tavern. Dark considers briefly dragging him out of it, but figures if anyone hears, he can just kill them, too. There's never enough blood to be spilled.

Slipping in through one of the side windows, he counts the doors until he hits the third on the left. He's spent copious amounts of time watching the mysterious figure enter and exit the room, so he knows this one has to be him.

The door is locked, as expected, so Dark pulls out his picks and sets to work on it. After a few moments of fiddling, it clicks, and Dark turns the knob as softly as he can before slipping through. He shuts the door and finds the sleeping form of who can only be described as Anti. 

Sometimes, Dark thinks killing people in their sleep is cowardly and not at all proper. But he's got no such morals and Anti will be waking up _real_ fast once Dark gets a hold of him. 

He's thinking to drag him out of bed by his hair. That usually startles people enough and once he gets him on the ground, Dark will have the upper hand. There are very few people in the region that can overpower him, and he doubts that Anti is one of them. 

Quietly as he can, Dark steps towards him, reaching a hand out to begin his next kill. 

But all at once, Anti spins on him and Dark hears the whizzing of something slicing through the air. He narrowly dodges the knife in Anti's hands as he slashes it at him. 

In his most ungraceful movement, Dark stumbles and hits the floor with a loud thud. Anti wastes no time in tossing the covers off and heading towards him, presumably to inflict more damage.

“You were waiting for me,” Dark laughs, and this is so _interesting_. None of his targets have ever been ready for him. Some have fought, sure, but none have known of his arrival. “How long did you know?”

“You're not at all discreet,” is Anti's reply, and his accent is foreign. A couple kingdoms over, he thinks. A more rural drawl. “I knew from day one.” 

Dark stares up at him, and the way the light hits him just right causes his throat to catch. He hair is tousled and his eyes are tired, but there's something...charming to him. A pale complexion with a lithe form—he could easily worm his way out of Dark's hands if he wanted to.

He's so pretty and Dark wants to see how well his bones snap.

“I'm Dark,” he says, rising to his feet. He feels for the knife on his belt, just to confirm it's there, and just knows that this night is going to be entertaining. 

“I don't care,” Anti answers, before he steps forward and swings at him again. 

Dark moves to the left, but barely has time to orient himself before Anti's on him again, his strikes quick. He's intent on drawing blood, but Dark just really likes seeing him move. 

He's so fluid in his skin, like he owns it completely and comfortably, as though nothing but his own organs weighs him down. It's breathtaking and he wants so badly to touch him. To get a feel for his skin. He wonders how soft it is. He doesn't look like he gets his hands dirty often. 

In one of Anti's swings, Dark ducks under it and punches him in the gut, giving him enough time to grab him around the waist, taking him to the floor. Anti sucks in a breath, presumably to stabilize himself when Dark grabs his wrist, squeezing with as much strength as he can until Anti hisses in pain. 

He drops the knife and Dark chucks it across the room, pinning his arms down with his own. 

“You're from a few regions over, aren't you?” Dark asks him. “That accent isn't from here, for sure. Anwyr? I'm from here.”

“I forgot the part where I asked,” Anti wheezes, trying vainly to pull his arms away. “Get off me or kill me.”

Dark notices that one of Anti's eyes are blue, and the other is a sickly shade of green, and that's fascinating. He's never seen anyone with mismatched eyes before. It takes a few moments of him staring for Anti's own gaze to realize something.

“The beast,” he huffs out, and he smirks. “Droxyl's famed killer. The prince's double.”

“More like the prince's dirty secret,” Dark replies, but something in him churns. “You've heard of me?”

“Maybe if you get off me, I'll grace you with an answer,” Anti heaves upward, trying to move him yet again. 

Dark presses down with more pressure. “I heard you got a hit on him. Now, I can't let you do that, because listen here, beautiful, only one person gets to kill him and that's going to be me.”

The expression on Anti's face is comical. “But I don't feel like killing you either, because you're the most fun I've had in ages.”

Then, Dark smiles, all teeth and full of promises. “So let's make a deal, okay? You don't kill the little princeling, and I'll let you live. Because if he dies, I'll slit your throat and while you're choking on your own blood I'll make you watch as I tear out the rest of your entrails, deal?” 

Anti actually looks thoughtful for a moment, as though considering rejecting his most generous offer. Dark can't imagine why he would refuse such an offer, but maybe it's a pride thing. Anti seems like a smart, self-preserving person though. After a beat, he breathes out. “Alright. I'll bite. Deal.” 

“Fantastic,” Dark pulls himself off him, offering a hand to help him up.

The other is skeptical for a moment, as though wary of the sudden change in demeanor. He did just try and kill him, after all. But he takes his hand, allowing Dark to pull him to his feet with ease. 

With another grin, Dark holds Anti's hand and with as much force as possible, slams his palm backwards, letting out a soft sigh as he hears the bones snap in his wrist. 

Anti _howls_. He yanks away from him and a slew of curses—some Dark understands, and some he doesn't—falls from his lips, and Dark explains, “Just to keep you busy while I make my exit. I hope to see you again, beautiful.” 

While Anti is hissing profanities at him, Dark thinks he should make a short visit to Anwyr, to learn a thing or two about the man with mismatched eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Thank you so much.


End file.
